AN HONORABLE DEATH

“If you want Callisto to get what’s coming to her, you’ll
do it my way.” -- Xena to Gabrielle in RETURN OF CALLISTO.

“We’re both gonna die, Xena. How wonderful! We can spend the rest of eternity
in Tartarus together. Hmmm?”

“Always the optimist.”

Callisto appreciated the sarcasm, especially from a “hero” mired at last in
muck they’d share until their final breath. Her acceptance of their situation
turned to intrigue, however, when her ever-resourceful foe fumbled for her chakram
as if they actually did have options. Managed to unhook it, fling it into a
nearby log, flick her whip around the lodged metal disk, and begin extricating
herself from the quicksand.

“Oh, you’re so good!”

Callisto did love watching her dark-haired nemesis work, in this case assuming
Xena would also be good enough to pull her to safety next. The blond psychopath
braced expectantly on the edge of her sinkhole relishing the irony. Mere days
ago she’d valued life as little more than a means for destroying the woman who
“made” her, after which she could’ve accidentally hung herself on a low-swinging
vine for all she cared.

She’d come close to accomplishing her end a few times before – shooting Xena
with a poison dart, rampaging in Xena’s name, nearly beating her in a fight
to the death. The wily ex-warlord had prevailed as usual, but appeared perplexingly
unenthused about wanting Callisto dead. Saved her first from an angry mob and
fiery obliteration in the villagers’ jail, then from plunging to smithereens
after their duel. Had her shipped off for a stupid trial and a prison with
even stupider guards.

Why? Xena had said “justice.” Another round of torment, in Callisto’s mind.
She couldn’t decide which aggravated her more – Xena’s refusal to kill her,
or that Xena herself wouldn’t die. Either way, Callisto figured she’d never
have peace. She did get some of that justice though. Survival for a while
longer whether she wanted it or not. The chance to break free and experience
life’s true joys. Like exploiting Xena’s new weakness – a sentimental heart.
“That gives me advantage over you,” she’d warned a few days earlier, holding
a sword at Xena’s back. “I’m not going to kill you now. First I’ll kill your
soul like you killed mine. Goodbye, My Sweet!”

Oooo, the thrill of tracking down Xena’s chirpy tagalong,
rudely interrupting the redhead’s spew of sappy garbage to the new hubby.

“Everything is united by love alone.”

“Love, love, love. And hate divides. Let’s see which one’s stronger.”

Whereupon Callisto prepared to prove her point with the end of a sword. The
only thing missing was the right audience. Ah, leave it to the Warrior Princess
to ride up on cue. Saved the brat, but for once that wasn’t good enough. Callisto
skewered hubby instead. How she’d longed to see Xena wailing over her friend’s
body, when perhaps even better was seeing Xena watching her friend wail. The
helplessness in those arrogant blue eyes alone made life worth living. Driving
Little Miss Lovey Dovey to take up the sword in revenge? An unexpected bonus.
How deliciously fitting Xena’s “creation” be the one to rob the brat of her
innocence – recreating a bit of Callisto to walk at the Destroyer’s side.

And now this. Princess Do Good forced again to salvage one of her throwaways.
Maybe hate had its weaknesses after all. Callisto meant to test that again
soon, exhilarated she still wanted to, stuck with the best person to make it
possible. Her heart raced anticipating another of their epic battles – two
warriors matched in superiority, unequaled in their thirst for blood. Slashing,
kicking, punching, tumbling. Climaxing in one final thrust that released them
from each other. What use had she for intoxicants or, worse, love? When, thanks
to Xena, all she needed to satisfy her was … well … Xena.

The woman sure was taking her sweet time, though. She’d crawled to solid ground,
detached the whip as if completely forgetting unfinished work left hanging precariously
a few feet away. Perhaps a reminder was in order?

“Xena, help me …. Xena, please …. ”

Xena gazed at her, but the eyes …. The eyes were somehow … wrong.

“Xena, please …. Help me.”

Where was the urgency, the fire? The guilt or compassion, the …. Callisto
got a queasy feeling. She needed the new Xena! The ridiculously sentimental
Xena. The Xena driven for no good reason to spare a mortal enemy.

“Xena, please! You can’t just let me die!”

How could Xena relax there, ignoring her pleas, calmly watching her slip away
as if no more than the dirt sucking her under? No! Not now! Not again! Not
when she wanted to live, like the first time Xena snuffed out her soul. Maybe
an appeal to ….

“Xena …. Xena, I’m counting on you.”

Strangely, it never crossed her mind to curse her unlikely savior. Instead
she persisted clawing at Xena’s stony resolve, clutching her faith in the warrior’s
mysterious heart, holding on to her confidence not even the Xena who’d condemned
her all those winters ago would let her die this way.

“Help me! Help me, Xena! Xeenaaaa …!”

Callisto’s beseeching hands fluttered above the brink like soiled dove’s wings
before they too disappeared. She screamed. Heard the smothered concession
to this last betrayal ricochet off the walls of her dark tomb in mockery of
the biggest and worst irony. She should’ve listened to herself before. She’d
been right after all. Hate was stronger.

*****

The muffled cry still echoed in Xena’s ears two nights later, piercing the
warrior’s certainty, penetrating recesses she’d thought numb. How painfully
ironic. The crazed she-demon had been wrong about the right things and right
about the wrong. Now Xena – and Gabrielle – would have to live with the consequences.

Xena studied her slumbering companion. Gabrielle did seem surprisingly at
peace with what had happened – losing Perdicus, her desire to kill Callisto,
urging Xena to take care of that instead. Xena called it “justice.” The culmination
of a life sentence Callisto rejected in preference for death. What she deserved
for escaping prison recommitted to hurting whomever – random or connected –
stood between her and destroying the Warrior Princess. Xena let out a shaky
sigh. But did she? Did anybody deserve such an end?

Closed tight places. Xena shuddered. She dreaded suffocation more than almost
anything. The excruciating awareness of one’s own futile gasps. Watching your
blood ooze away or dying of thirst wasn’t much better, but might be endured
with a certain calmness. She could numb her body to its slow demise, escape
in a trancelike state to where she’d rather be, accept a surrender difficult
in the instinctive struggle for air. To a warrior, a particularly powerless,
ignominious defeat. Callisto must’ve been in agony.

An involuntary grin tugged Xena’s lips. Nobody embraced death with more gusto
than her nemesis. Every demonic laugh, the ecstasy at smelling blood. How
she bounced and skipped into battle, her skinny limbs jerking as though attached
by strings to Hades himself. Of all the emotions on Callisto’s deceptively
playful face, Xena had never seen desperation. Never heard that slyly venomous
mouth ask for help, for consideration, mercy. Never imagined those deranged
eyes wide with pure terror, with incredulity at the prospect of dying. Never
expected to witness such vulnerability in front of the person Callisto least
wanted to show weakness of any kind.

Xena’s mind drifted into the past, to a faraway place in the East. She’d encountered
a culture where dying with honor meant everything, even to a young girl who’d
never wielded a weapon. Xena’d given that girl an honorable death, though she
herself couldn’t appreciate the subtleties at the time. Back then she thought
nothing of killing a father in front of his child, slaughtering Amazons who
befriended her, shooting retreating enemies in the back. Whacking off the head
of a defeated man on his knees begging for mercy. Burning another young girl’s
village to the ground. No, she’d been the Xena Callisto loved to hate.

If the Warrior Princess hadn’t changed, Callisto might’ve confined her targets
to Xena’s person or reputation. If Callisto had been as manic as she seemed,
she might not have recognized Xena now had a heart, a soul worth more than the
sum of her warrior parts. Xena shook her head. Insight could be a bitch sometimes.
Without hers and Callisto’s, Perdicus would still be alive. And so might Gabrielle’s
innocence.

“Perdicus is the last one. From here on out, all I want is Callisto’s blood.
I want to see her dead.”

“I won’t help you destroy all the ideals you live by. If you’re taken over
by hate, Callisto wins.”

Xena shivered at other images, sounds, words frozen in her brain. Of Gabrielle’s
hate-contorted face. The young woman viciously attacking a tree with sword
strikes she literally prodded Xena into helping her perfect. That sweet voice
snarling, “I’m gonna kill `er, Xena. Teach me! Teach me how to kill her!”
Coldly proclaiming Callisto had already won. “My ideals were a lie! I thought
love was the strongest power on earth. Love is helpless in the face of cruelty.
That little innocent Gabrielle is dead, and there’s no getting her back.”

“Xena?”

The warrior flinched, startled to feel Gabrielle’s hand on her back. “Oh …
hey.” She’d been sitting on her bedroll with her knees drawn up, arms wrapped
around them, staring in the direction of their campfire. “You cold?” she asked,
quickly rising. “Sorry. Was gonna stoke that before I turned in.”

Gabrielle sat up and rubbed her eyes. She watched Xena toss some wood on the
low-burning fire. She wasn’t sure what woke her. She did have goose bumps
on her arms, but doubted from the relatively warm night air.

“Okay, that oughtta do it for a while.” Xena grabbed Argo’s bridle and retrieved
one of her tools from a saddlebag. She dropped down on her furs. “Got a little
bent piece,” she explained. “Figured I could fix it now, with more light.”
She patted her companion’s shoulder. “No need for you to lose any beauty rest
over it. G’won back to sleep.”

“You okay?” Gabrielle noted the dark circles forming under the warrior’s eyes,
realizing how long it had been since she’d seen that telltale sign of nightmares.
“Trouble sleeping?”

“Pffft. You know me – night owl. This won’t take long.”

Gabrielle had learned what Xena’s studied casualness meant – “Let sleeping
dogs lie.” She decided it was too late for that now.

“Xena?”

“Mm.”

“I told you to ‘get’ her.”

“What?” Xena’s head jerked up.

“I had a hand in it too. Please, I want to know what really happened.”

“Gabrielle, it’s over. Why dredge up ….” Xena rolled her tongue in her cheek
at that stubborn puckering of her young companion’s lips. “I told you. We
took a spill off the chariots, tussled around for a bit and ….” She shrugged.
“Her body got sucked into quicksand. End of story.”

“Xena?” Gabrielle scooted closer and put her hand on the warrior’s arm. “I
can tell when you believe it’s a ‘clean’ kill. This doesn’t feel like it.”

Xena’s jaw dropped. The Gabrielle looking at her had indeed changed. The
eyes still held warmth and love, but also the pained empathy of experience.
Eyes she couldn’t hide from as easily anymore. Which deserved and could probably
take in the truth.

Sighing, Xena looked down at her hands. “I didn’t kill her, so much as let
her die.”

“She was injured? You mean you … left her to die?”

“Both of us landed in the quicksand. I got out.” Xena held Gabrielle’s eyes.
“With my chakram and a whip.”

“Was there time …. Could you really do anything to –.”

“Yes.”

“Gods. No wonder ….”

“I watched her, Gabrielle. Watched her sink like the sand sucking her in.
After she was gone ….” Xena gazed out over their fire into the darkness. “It
was like I’d been in a haze. I remember being a little surprised she wasn’t
there anymore. Kept looking at the hole. Not sure why. Maybe thinking she’d
pop up like usual? Maybe hoping she would?” She faced Gabrielle. “Maybe I’d
made a mistake and it wasn’t too late to fix it?”

“Oh, Xena. You can’t punish yourself over this. She vowed she’d leave a trail
of innocent victims, blame it on you for letting her live those other times.
At least ….” Gabrielle swallowed. “At least Perdicus was the last.”

Xena’s head dropped. “And you,” she murmured.

“No!” Gabrielle lifted Xena’s chin. “Don’t you dare put that on your shoulders
too! Those were my decisions – to take revenge, to have you do it for
me. I’m a grown woman, Xena. It’s time we both realized that. Let me bear
my share of the weight.”

“You didn’t tell me to kill her. I knew I would the moment she gutted Perdicus.
Hate, Gabrielle. Cold rage. Not only justice for him or revenge for you.”
Xena’s lips quivered in grim remembrance. “For doing it in front of me.”

“It doesn’t matter, Xena. Call it what you will. Rage, justice. You did
what you had to. What you thought right.”

“Yeah. Ironic, huh? You trusted me to kill her if needed. She trusted I
wouldn’t let her die.” Xena shook her head. “My least forgiving victim – usually
cursing me to Tartarus and back – believed I’d changed. Counted on it. Begged
me to save her, right to the end. And she was wrong.”

“Not wrong about you changing. Only in believing you’re not human.”

Xena let out a long breath. “At my worst, I never watched anyone die like
that. Even then, I’d put them out of their misery. Now I’m supposed to be
better, the one person I owed another chance – .”

“To kill again? You think she changed? Because you did?” Gabrielle snorted
in disgust. “Xena, she chose to stay who she was. Gloried in it. Rejected
who you’d become – except as a weapon against you.”

“I know,” Xena acknowledged softly. “But I caused it. Ruined the life she
had before, the chance for a better one after. No way to change that, even
if she’d let me.”

“So she made herself an evil force, solely for the purpose
of destroying you.”

“Yes. A great warrior. In my image. If nothing else, she was good at that.”
Xena set aside the bridle and folded her hands in her lap. “Right or wrong,
I was past risking her alive, Gabrielle. I meant, maybe granting her last request
– spared her – long enough to fight me like a warrior should. At least given
her the chance for a better death.”

Sighing, Gabrielle wrapped her arm around Xena’s waist. What more could she
say? Truth, like hate, could cut with a double edge. The important thing was
not letting it divide them. From each other. From the best in themselves.
She hugged Xena closer as they sat in silence, staring into the flames. Mourning
that part of their souls smothered with Callisto in her dark tomb.